I Am Never Without It
by fictitiousburn
Summary: Everything is suddenly within the grasp of electricity and it gives her life a brand new perspective— Life after she has been struck by lightning. Life after she has fallen in love. Being in love with Zuko, she concludes, is like being struck by lightning (Zuko/Katara)
1. I Am Never Without Lightning

**i am never without it,** an all canon compliant drabble

It is like a bolt of lightning passing through her heart whenever she thinks about it. She has never been struck by lightning, but she has felt the effects of it beneath her fingers. She has knitted together the internal damage from such a strike. It aches like a gentle, peaceful destruction, crackling and electric and completely natural and devastating. It is not wrong because it is an elemental strike, but it is wrong as she pulls together the pieces torn apart by sparks and tendrils of electricity winding their way through the body. It is not easy to remember the exact moment of such a strike of emotion like lightning, just that she feels it and she feels the aftershocks, the ripples that course through her and touch every part of her in a butterfly effect. Everything is suddenly within the grasp of electricity and it gives her life a brand new perspective—

Life after she has been struck by lightning.

Life after she has fallen in love.

Being in love with Zuko, she concludes, is like being struck by lightning.

The only thing left of her love is something she must piece together, sewn haphazardly like a torn seam. It is not wrong because it is love, truly and purely, but it is wrong as she seeks to mend the destruction winding its way through her body. It is not easy to remember the exact moment of such a strike of emotion like love, just that she feels it and she feels the aftershocks. A faint stirring of her nerves as she realizes he has saved her life without a moment's hesitation. The painful wrenching of her heart as she watches him silently mourn the loss of the last member of his family. The way she feels betrayal at taking Aang's hand in front of him; the way the betrayal threatens to rock her unsteady, lightning torn heart out of rhythm when Aang kisses her in front of him.

This is her life, she surmises. A life living with a heart forever altered by the strike of lightning, careful to adjust to the changes.

Excessive strain is to be monitored and she must be careful of the faintness of her own heart; it is not as strong as it used to be, it cannot withstand everything that it used to be able to. She must take into account to adjust to the changes of her new lightning struck love. Fear of excessive strain is what keeps her from having children until she is nearly thirty, and when she does, it is what keeps her from having a whole herd of them the way she has always wanted. She is careful of the faintness of her own heart, not to imagine too much what her children would look like under different circumstances, not to stare too long when she meets the Fire Princess, not to cry too much on her pillow at night. Her heart is not as strong as it used to be, it cannot withstand everything that it used to be able to.

This is why, she thinks, her heart feels a groan of relief as Aang slips away, the pressure relieved but the tear in her heart widening at his absence. She is both alleviated and heartbroken at his death, but she is familiar with the attempts, and she pulls together the pieces of her lightning torn heart.

She is hesitant and careful and in all her eighty-five years of life, she has only felt this stirring of nerves once, when her life was spared. She stares up into the familiar scarred face, her old bones trembling but sure as they reach to touch him. He is real, from the glassy appearance of his golden eyes, to the gray length of hair that falls over his shoulders, to the way that he winces when her fingers touch the center of his chest where the lightning died in his ribs. His hand closes over her hand and he looks down at her, his eyes meeting hers and she feels the rapid crackling, the static charge in the air, and she looks away.

Sometimes, she wonders, whether she is the one who has been struck by lightning. Her chest is absent of physical scars, but she knows that she is never without the scars beneath the surface.

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**notes:** a second part from zuko's point of view will be posted in the next few days, so consider this a two-shot. it is also mildly inspired by the popular poem by e.e. cummings. i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)


	2. I Am Never Without Restraint

**i am never without it,** an all canon compliant drabble

It is a restraint that binds him from day to day. It not only holds him down, but it holds him back; it tethers him to the unscarred side of himself, the side of himself full of what could have been and what it would have been like. He tries to bury these things, but despite banishing them to the darkest recesses of himself, they surface like a buoy to mark the width and depth of what he feels. He is familiar with the force of physical binds: the knotting of rope, the snapping of manacles over wrists, the confinements of cold cells and warm throne rooms. But this sort of bind exists between the tangible part of him and the intangible part of him—between his body and his mind and soul. His body reigns over what he must do with his actions; his mind and his spirit traverse the delicate gap of what he knows to be true in his mind and what he desires in his spirit.

He knows his love to be true.

He desires _her_.

But he is bound to his body and he must not act upon these things; he knows that even though his love for Katara binds him, it will never be free.

And so, he will continue to live in helpless restraint, watching stolen moments pass in front of him with nothing but longing. The first time he feels himself pulling against his binds as he watches her with Aang, stroking her fingers against the back of his hand and the way her fingers lock when he kisses her. It is futile, but he wants nothing more than to startle, to disrupt, to interfere in the path that their life is taking, but he is trapped and powerless. The way that over time, the bindings dig into his skin as he spends it trying to fight against his duty and her destiny; his duty to his nation and her destiny with the Avatar.

The way that eventually, his resolve slumps in captivity and he gives in to his obligations.

He rebuilds his nation from the ground up and settles into a comfortable routine. He has one child, a daughter, and is content with her and her alone. He does what he can within the range of his caged lifestyle, presiding over the matters of his nation and fulfilling his obligations until he can be at ease. He tires of his restraints and when he feels weary, he unshackles himself from the responsibility and bestows it upon the able shoulders of his daughter. His wrists creak in satisfaction as he hands down the mantle and crown to his only child.

He is boundless and free, finally, after decades of entrapment. His vision is hazy in both eyes, but he keeps them wide as if he can only see the light aura of her presence filtering into his golden eyes. He takes her in, the hunch of her shoulders and wrinkled creases of her face, and the delicately brittle wrists that he once restrained himself, with rope and with his own hands. He reaches out with a shaking hand, like she will wisp and blow away like, and when his hand closes over hers, he almost sighs in relief.

She is there, beside him, and she is real. And although he feels free, he knows that he is never without restraint.

* * *

**notes:** and this is complete! i hope you enjoyed it, i like the complexities of zutara so it was definitely a tricky thing to write.


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